


For you I'd wait & fight & wait some more

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: Theirs was never meant to be a smooth beginning, or much of a middle.But theirend, oh, that's all theirs.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	For you I'd wait & fight & wait some more

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that I don't own FFXV or any of its content and characters.** It's the property of Square Enix, and I still cry over Noct's fate.

**One**

The second shot is as bad as the first, the third after that, but somewhere around the bottom of the bottle his throat is mostly numb and the watering in his eyes can be blamed on the burn, not the splinters making home in his ribs and the void between them where his heart once beat.

He doesn't know what's worse about the news of Noct's sudden nuptials - the years ripped from their fingers, breaking their hold, or the silence yawning between them. As if the very foundations of their relationship are already dust and decay six feet under.

**Two**

"What are you doing?" He sounds harsh in the quiet he breaks, almost accusatory, doesn't think to check his tone until it's already out there, damning and loud. He rubs at his eyes as if that'll help them focus, pull shape and sense from the darkness just beyond the Haven's protection.

But no, there Noctis is, there he _stays_ , all alone, shoulders hunched high, tension in the bend of his back and the lines of his arms. He doesn't respond, doesn't acknowledge Ignis at all, and the prickling unease in his gut stirs again, drives him forward as it had dragged him from sleep.

"Noctis?" Soft this time, cautious, palm on a dagger hilt as he steps beyond the wards, pads barefoot across cold stone and damp grass to where Noctis is bowing in silence. On his knees. With daemons on the prowl. What insanity.

Noct's eyes burn ember-bright in the dark when Ignis comes around him, wild and roiling still from the _power_ of an Astral summon. It sparks the air between them when Ignis dares move closer, a _crack_ right before he lays a hand on Noct's shoulder and his nerves light up like a bundle of fireworks, magic rattling his very _bones_.

"What are you doing?" He asks again around a gasping breath and Noctis blinks from far away, gaze distant and unseeing as it passes over Ignis, _through_ him.

"Grounding. I can still feel the storm, the carnage."

And so Ignis kneels before him, digs in with him, buries his fingers past the topsoil and ignores the dirt under his nails, not another word said. Noctis shifts then, slight awareness cutting through his expression of stone, pitches forward not to take Ignis' hands in his, but to tuck his face into his throat, breath a scalding brand against Ignis' pulse.

Death and danger, and yet Ignis has never felt safer.

** Three **

The sheets are cold and stay that way for ten solid years, untouched except for laundering and resting a weary head. Gone are the days of sleeping in and the nights of staying awake late. There is only existence and the goosebumps on his skin where another's heat used to be, his bed too big without his heart and soul in it.

He keeps a jar of fire by his bedside and his lance arranged just so against the wall, one dagger under his pillow and the other on the floor. All within touching distance, all reminders of the one truth he desperately clings to in a world cracked right down the middle.

Magic still simmers in his blood, the Armiger still unfolds in his hands, and somewhere out there... Noctis is still alive.

** Four **

_One of us, one of us, one of us!_

They're whispers and insults and taunts in the dark. From Ardyn, he knows, the source of this madness, but they all sound the same, they all sound like -

"No," he says, voice as steady as the hand he casts through a world he'll never lay eyes on again, "he's one of _us_."

\- Prompto. Prompto, who grabs hold of his hand as if it's a lifeline. Prompto, who steps into his personal space and presses close. Prompto, who covers his back against the daemons manifesting there.

They moan at _him_ instead, attention shifted, wet rattles of sound shaped into his name and it's Noct's voice. It's _Noct's_ voice.

_Why did you leave? Iggy,_ please.

"Oh, you _bastard."_

Somewhere in the distance, Ardyn laughs.

** Five **

Some garbled noise or another comes out of his mouth, muffled in the pillow he's smooshed into his own face. _You're up early,_ what he'd intended to say, a puff of laughter the response he gets as Noctis leans in to kiss his shoulder, skim calloused fingers over his ribs and down his side, curling 'round his hip and splaying wide across his belly.

"Good morning," Noctis says, and Ignis rolls over so he can press a smile to his lips, pull him close for a few minutes more.

A good morning indeed, an entire future's worth to follow.

_They made it._


End file.
